cape_kore | ☆ audio.

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☆ audio.

Hello there, young padawans. [Her voice is flat, almost to the point of disinterest.] I've been skulking about for a few days and I'll cut straight to the point: I'm pretty sure that I'm ready to leave now. [More emotion starts to present itself; frustration with the slightest trace of anger.] I get the whole "stuck" thing, but that's always such crap. Someone's usually behind that and they'll usually fold if approached the right way -- which in my case may very well be with a fist.

[She lets a little huff of air out, almost a laugh.] But I'm getting ahead of myself. So, how about this! I'll even be a good sport about it (if you could see me, I am smiling and not going to press any sort of interdimensional charges on you, I promise). I'm a busy woman with a cat to feed and a teenage cousin to roll my eyes at back home. Send me to my San Francisco and I'll forget this ever happened.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Nah! When I hit a guy, I make sure he can see it coming.

[Ordinary girls don't react like this when they're dragged across realities.]

Thanks! I appreciate the consideration. For future reference, I'd like those stickers to be of rabbits and maybe stars. It depends on the day. A drink works just as well, assuming it's mixed well.

How d'you feel about ponies? Pony stickers are easier to come by.

[Not that he has any stickers at all, but presumably once he's all angeled up again he can make some. The same goes for the drink.]

What's your poison? Beer, wine, spirits, cocktails? Just a tip, if you say 'beer' I'll have to deduct you ten points, cause frankly it's kinda gross.

I have no strong opinion on ponies.

[For all she knows, he is hoarding pony stickers. It's an interesting thought.]

Mouton Rothschild or Romanée Conti. Pétrus is nice because I enjoy a good Merlot, but the batches vary too much for my liking. [She's an expensive date.] But I don't mind an Americano every now and then and even if I drank Bud Light, I can guarantee it wouldn't knock me down a single point.

Well, that'll have to do.

[Expensive doesn't matter to him. After all, it's not as if he ever actually buys anything.]

Very classy, I'm impressed. Course, the bar here's not exactly known for its wine cellar, so I wouldn't set my heart on it if I were you.

I'm not impressed by class.

Either way, if it's only Bud Light I'll just take a glass of water. I'm not that desperate.

I'm led to believe there's obscene quantities of vodka. And once I shake this pesky little bug, I'm sure I can provide something a little more suitable.

[Vodka's great, but more importantly...] Oh, I heard about that! You're something you're not supposed to be, right? Are you a bunny?

I'll buy you a drink, if you're a bunny. Assuming they accept I.O.U.s, I mean.

I'm not a bunny. Never have been -- well, not unless you count the Playboy kind, and that was only one time.

But hey, feel free to buy me a drink anyway.

I'm going to not ask about that because I get the feeling I'd rather not know.

A drink is a reward. You have to do something deserving of a reward. [Give her something juicy, already.] What about a vampire? Are you a vampire now? Some guy said something about incubi, too -- which, frankly, I've had enough of. They're such assholes.

Right now? Sorry to disappoint, honey, but I'm human. The incubus is my brother.

[Which, in hindsight, he probably shouldn't have said, given that both Castiel and Gabriel are still in the angel-closet.]

Normally, though, I'm nothing so mundane as a vamp or an incubus. I'm a god.

How lucky that someone you're close to is here, as well -- more importantly, is he cute?

[On the bright side, she doesn't much have a clue about that. You can stay in there a bit longer.]

I don't know, gods are a dime a dozen, aren't they? What do you reign over? Anything juicy?

Oh, yeah. Gorgeous.

[Is that a weird thing to say about one's brother...? Oh well.]

And my field of expertise is generally mischief, FYI. You've heard of Loki, I presume? Most people here have - my reputation tends to precede me.

I think I'm talking to the wrong brother, then.

[She wouldn't know, not having any siblings...]

I thought you were shitting me about that.

You're talking to the fun brother. Bless his little cotton socks, he may be fun to look at, but he got hit with the boring stick at least twelve times.

[But that's probably enough talk about Castiel.]

I shat you not. 100% truth, Scout's honour.

How unfortunate for him! I suppose I'll just choose my company more carefully.

[As curious as she may be, she really has no preference which of them she is given information about. Might as well be the chatty funtimes one.]

A deity and a boy scout, too. My, you're full of surprises.

Actually, I was a Girl Scout. The boy scouts have terrible cookies.

They sell nice wreathes, though.

Yeah, those aren't really among my special interests. They taste kind of icky, for one thing.

I wouldn't know, I've never had the urge to taste-test one.

I'm not gonna lie, I have that urge with most things. And people, but that's a different bad habit altogether.

Then it's a good thing this meeting isn't in person; you might be looking at a broken jaw.

That is lucky. Of all the bones I could have broken, I think the jaw would be my last choice.

...what would be your first?

Probably the nose. I think it'd make me look rugged.

[Or possibly one arm, since he's pretty sure he's already fractured it. (He almost definitely hasn't; he's just being a baby about it).]

There are pretty un-rugged ways to break a nose. Especially if you get a split-lip along the way. I'm sure some women dig it, though. [Aww, look how sweet! She's being encouraging!]

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